


Gatsby Rewritten

by TrashFoot



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Flirtationship, M/M, Slow Burn, i guess??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashFoot/pseuds/TrashFoot
Summary: Here it is: The Great Gatsby, but gayer. Nick moves into town, meets Gatsby, they start up a flirtationship, and eventually a relationship. I use passages straight from the book, and cite them (as best I can) throughout.Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.PS: I identify as straight, so if anybody sees anything that's just not right in terms of sexuality and how the characters come off and such, please please *please* tell me, and I will edit accordingly. I really don't wanna be offending anyone.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a matter of chance that I should’ve rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due ease of New York—and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city were a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western Hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the eggs in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except in shape and size. 

I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a mansion, inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbor’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month. 

Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I unpacked the last of the boxes that contained my things (Fitzgerald, 4-5). It was the last week of spring, and I intended on going outside to appreciate what my new surroundings were like during this time of year. After walking out into my backyard, and a brief moment staring off into the bay before me, I turned to go back inside my quaint home, when something—or someone—caught my eye. In the neighbor’s tower stood a man who I could only assume would be said neighbor. His house looked big enough though, that I wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually a butler or someone else amongst the help. He held a glass in his hand and lifted it towards me in greeting. It was hard to tell, but I was able to notice a friendly smile on him, and I smiled back, lifting a hand towards him. I continued on my way inside to grab a book to read on my humble porch swing, assuming that by then my thoughts would have moved on from him.


	2. Chapter 2

During the next two weeks, after coming home from work, I had gotten myself into a habit of sitting outside and reading. Whether on my porch swing or on an old patio chair I had dragged along with me on my move, getting to read outdoors helped me relax from the stresses of a new job in New York City. There were times though, when my mind drifted off into space and I’d come back to reality and find myself staring off into the bay, or I’d finish a chapter and decide whether or not it was time to go inside, that the feeling someone was looking at me would creep into my stomach. Once or twice I’d looked over to my neighbor’s tower thinking maybe he would be there, looking off into the bay like I was, but to no avail.

One evening I had come outside one last time after eating a lonely dinner. The sun was in the midst of setting, the sky glowing vaguely different pinks and oranges, while the ground waited for the last of the sun’s rays. It was still light enough to see my neighbor at the end of his pier, a hand outstretched. I wandered to the end of my yard with hopes to even catch a glimpse of what he was trying to reach for. I got to the very edge of the shore, waves lapping up against a small shore of smooth, grey rocks and pebbles. As I stood there for a moment, looking out towards the houses across the bay, it caught my eye. A green light blinked in and out of existence on someone else’s pier. Wanting to get another step closer, I looked down to place my foot on the rocky shore. Within a second, I felt a quick pain in my ankle as it twisted. I lost my footing as the rock slipped from underneath my foot, sending me into the water with a splash.  
I emerged from the shallow water, angry with myself and my wet clothes. As I stomped back towards my home, I took a quick look back to the now empty pier, and began to wonder if getting even one step closer to a distant light was really worth it.

“Excuse me, sir- sir!” A strange voice called after me in my side yard. I turned to see a man in a nice suit walking fast towards me, the only thing keeping him from getting to me was the small hedge that separated the properties. He was almost out of breath when I stopped and came towards him. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Mr. Gatsby requested that these get brought to you at once.” He lifted up a pair of towels over the hedge, handing them to me.

“Oh, well, thank you.” I replied to the unexpected gesture. He did a small bow to me, but before he could leave, I surprised him with a question. “Um, I don’t mean to pry, but just who is Mr. Gatsby?” Before he could answer, another new voice entered the conversation from a distance.

“Marvin that will be all!”

“Yes, sir.” Marvin bowed out again, and I watched as he made his way into the elegant home.

“Hi,” the man started, sticking out his hand. “The name’s Gatsby. Jay Gatsby.” Gatsby’s cream colored sweater fit him well, was what I first noticed about him. It was loose enough to at least appear comfortable, yet it still clung to his chest. Not only did it go well with his white pleated pants, but it helped to bring out the blue of his eyes. To my luck, I managed to get out of my head and grab his hand in time, so not to make things awkward.

“I’m-I’m Nick. Carraway.” My introduction was awkward in comparison, and my appearance certainly didn’t help. Despite that, he still gave me a friendly smile as he shook my hand.

“Well, Mr. Carraway, I do hope I haven’t come off as a bad neighbor by not introducing myself sooner.”

“Oh, no need to worry about that. Besides, I do believe that we did say hi to each other once before. We saw each other a few days ago, I think, when you were up in your tower.” I told him, pointing up to it.

“Ah, yes. I’m glad you reminded me. You know, I spend enough time up there, you’d think I remember. I’m a very busy man though, so it’s easy for things to slip my mind.” Suddenly, in the corner of my eye, I noticed a figure coming towards us.

“Excuse me, sir,” Marvin interrupted, “Chicago is calling again.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry to cut things short here, old sport, but I must take this call. Please, excuse me.”

“Alright, then. Good-bye, Mr. Gatsby.” As we parted ways, I looked down to the towels. Arranging myself accordingly, I unfolded one of the towels and placed it on my shoulders, before heading towards my own home once again. Before going inside, I took one last look at the dying sun, which had turned into a dot of red light now, and the cloudless sky faded from a yellow orange to a deep blue. The natural beauty before me could not distract my mind from wanting to know some more about my neighbor.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's party time for Nick, Gatsby, and a new friend.

The rapping at my door forced me to put my broth on hold, temporarily. As I opened the door, I was met with a somewhat familiar face.

“Mr. Carraway,” Marvin greeted me.

“Ah, Marvin, hello.” 

“Mr. Gatsby has asked me to give you this.” As he handed me an envelope, I looked at it with some confusion.

“Thank you.” Marvin did his signature slight bow, turned on his heel, and started the walk back to Gatsby’s. As I closed the door, I opened my new piece of mail and found a handwritten invitation.

_Dear Mr. Carraway,_

_The honor would be entirely mine,  
if you could come to my little party._

_Yours sincerely,  
Jay Gatsby_

‘Little Party?’ I thought, traveling to a nearby window, looking at Gatsby’s house inquisitively. ‘From what I’ve observed, they’re nothing close to little.’

**~*~**

Traversing Gatsby’s long driveway, I arrived at the front door in the midst of a handful of other guests already rearing to get their parties started. As I passed through the door, I brought out my invitation and showed it to the doorman.

“Hello, I have an invi—” I was cut off as another party-goer bumped into my shoulder. As I looked to see who it was who did it, the doorman closed the door and made his way into the crowd. “Ah-” I said out loud, awkwardly placing the invitation back in my jacket’s inner pocket. I decided to make my way into the party as well, and suddenly became aware of how alone I was at this party, despite how many people were surrounding me. A few steps further in, a waiter approached me with a serving plate full of freshly poured champagne. ‘What else but to get drunk?’ I thought to myself, my being alone fueling my action.  
Eventually I had made my way through two more glasses of champagne and a flight of stairs. As I leaned over a banister in a semi-empty hallway and looked down at the party playing out in front of me, movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I saw a blond man— Gatsby?— being escorted through an anonymous looking door by a familiar butler.

“Ah, Marvin. Hello,” I said to him as he made his way towards me. I stuck out my hand, which he shook immediately.

“Greetings, Mr. Carraway. May I help you with something? Or are you here to see Mr. Gatsby?”

“Oh, I just...” Truthfully, I had no real reason to be here. “I’m not so sure, if I’m going to be honest.”

“Well I’m sure Mr. Gatsby would be glad to see you. If you want you can wait for him in that room over there, he’s just got to finish making a telephone call.”

“Thank you. In that room?” I asked, pointing to one of the doors.

“Yes, second one to the right, sir.”

“Okay. Thank you, Marvin.” I wandered towards the door, turned the knob, and pushed myself in.

The room I entered was a grand and elegant library, a continuation of how the rest of the house was like. It was a large enough room to hold two big, white chaise lounges in its center, a two story arched window, and a rolling ladder. The only occupants of the room were a maid and somebody else; on one of the lounges was “the younger of the two [who] was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless, and with her chin raised a little, as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in” (Fitzgerald, 8). The maid leaned down to the stranger, whispering something in her ear for a moment, and then turned on her heel and walked my way. As I sidestepped for her, she looked me up and down for a moment before leaving. With that interaction, I kept my gaze in the floor to my side until I heard a “Hello,” come from the center of the room. My cheeks felt warmed for reasons I couldn’t fully explain at that moment as I greeted her with a small “Hello” back.

“So, waiting for Gatsby, are you?” I looked at her inquisitively.

“Yes, how did you—?” ‘Did the maid tell her?’ I asked myself as I turned and glanced at the closed door behind me.

“He’s going to be a little while more; he’s making a call to God knows who. Oh, let me introduce myself, my name is Jordan Baker.” I walked towards her, taking her extended hand in mine.

“Nick Carraway.”

“You know, Nick, I heard that Gatsby has killed a man before. Then again, I’ve heard a lot of things about him.” She let a moment pass between us as I sat down on the chaise lounge opposite her. “There’s only one thing I know for sure though.”

“What’s that?” She gave me the once over before continuing.

“I can trust you, right?”

“Well, I certainly find that—I mean I-I _hope_ that I—I-I mean I _try_ —” My buzzed state was definitely not working in my favor.

“You know what, Nick? I think I can trust you.” She came closer to me, saying quietly, as if someone was going to hear us, “He’s known to have been with women, but he’s told me personally that he’s also a sweeper of chimneys.” A moment of silence passed us, confirming my not knowing what she meant. “You know, a snake charmer.” Another moment of confusion. “He only travels by tunnel. He rubs the silverware without a cloth. Nick, come on, he’s a mustache bumper.” She grabbed my arm on the last phrase, shaking it a little. She sighed. “He dates women, but he’s also a homosexual.” My eyes widened.

“A-a-a w-what?”

“A homosexual. Nick, please, us homosexuals aren’t so bad—”

“Wait—you’re a- you’re one, too?” I asked, gripping the couch.

“Why are you acting so surprised? Aren’t you one too?”

“No- I-I-I’m... Not that I know of, no.”

“Oh... I’m sorry, I hope you haven’t taken any offense to my allegation.”

“Oh, no no no, not at all, no.”

“I still hope you won’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not. I was taught from a young age by my father not to judge others.”

“ _But_ , I am getting the sense that there’s still some room for you to question yourself.”

“To what?”

“To question yourself. To figure out who you love, despite the gender.” My head was throbbing, trying to wrap itself around what Jordan was explaining to me. Either that, or the alcohol was beginning to wear off some. God knows I wouldn’t mind another glass of champagne right about now. Just as that thought popped into my mind, I heard the door open. Jordan greeted the newcomer by getting up and going right to them, while I turned to look who it was. “Ah, Jay, darling.” She said to him, giving him a hug.

“Jordan, how are you?”

“Great! And you?”

“Just fine, thanks.” He looked over to me. “Old sport! I’m glad to see you here,” I got up to shake his hand, and as he shook it, he placed a hand on my shoulder. “How are you?” He asked, looking me in the eye with glistening blue eyes. It was the way he was looking at me though, like I was the only person in the room—the world, even— the only one who’s words really mattered. “I assume you got my invitation?” After a second of taking in his look and my mouth moving like that of a fish gasping for air on a dock, I responded.

“I’m good, Mr. Gatsby, very good. And yes, I did.”

“Good, good. I’m glad.” And there it was. His smile. He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself (Fitzgerald, 48). “Oh, and by the way, you can call me Jay.”

“Alright... Jay.”

“You know, we should take a ride in my hydroplane some time. How about tomorrow?”

“Oh, um—”

“What about, say… around 10 o’clock tomorrow morning?”

“Uh, yes?” The conversation happened quickly enough that I had barely known what I had just agreed to.

“Great! I’ll see you then!”

“Alright, I’m going to get back out to the party.” Jordan interrupted. “Nick, why don’t you join me? I have a few people I’d love to introduce you to. Plus I’m in the mood for some more giggle water.”

“S-sure—” She grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door. “Good-bye, Jay!” I managed to get out. My last sight of him that night was him lifting his hand up, saying goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slang (for lack of a better word) for homosexual comes from the 'Will & Grace' episode "A Gay Olde Christmas."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick trip on the hydroplane, and some implied flirting. It's looking like this story may be more of a slow burn than I thought it would be lol

Jordan and I spent the rest of the night together, her doing most of the talking. I certainly learned a lot last night; for instance I didn’t realize that she knew my cousin Daisy, particularly in a more intimate way than I would’ve ever realized or probably ever would’ve cared to know about before. It also turned out that Daisy was more than aware of her husband Tom’s apparent infidelity, and had many doubts about the wellbeing of her marriage, especially since the birth of her daughter. She confided a lot in Jordan, and soon they sparked a... well, a relationship of sorts. Jordan’s rambling on about this, along with ‘lessons’ on homosexuality sprinkled throughout, helped me widen my eyes a little further than I anticipated, and at a grand party no less.

At some point during the night, I had made a mental note to write my cousin, which had miraculously managed to survive. The rest of my mind, however, did not fare as well. I woke up to it throbbing again, a headache bringing me down to an unknown reality I unfortunately had to face alone. As I sat up in my bed, I felt something loose hanging around my neck- my bow tie from the previous night. Suddenly, I heard knocking on my front door, and took a look at the clock that sat on my side table. ‘10:10...’ My brain told itself. ‘Who’s here at 10:00 in the morning...?’ I staggered to the door, holding my head as I opened it.

“Old sport, good morning!” Gatsby greeted me cheerily. I winced at his voice.

“Ooh, good morning, Mr. Gats—” I caught myself, remembering his request last night, “Jay.”

“Oh, are you okay?” He asked with concern. I feigned a smile.

“Yes, just a bit of a headache is all.”

“I was thinking you might not be feeling so well this morning. I brought along some Bayer tablets along just in case.” He placed three tablets in my hand and I took a moment to look at them inquisitively. He must have noticed my confusion, as he explained that I can take them with a glass of water.

“Mm, thank you. I’ve never taken tablets before. I’ve seen the ads, though. Here, come in.” I walked over to the sink and poured myself a glass of water as my guest took a seat on my living room couch.

“I’ve used them a handful of times before, they do help. But, now I’m wondering if we should go on the hydroplane today.” Suddenly remembering, I let out a small gasp and hoped it was just me who heard it.

“Oh no, I would still love to go.” I reassured him, before taking my first tablet.

“You would? Are you sure?” I nodded my head yes as soon as I took the next tablet.

“Well alright then, we can go whenever you’re ready.” Realizing what I was wearing, I hurriedly took my last tablet and ran off to my bedroom to get in more appropriate attire and assured Jay that I would be back out in a jiffy.

**~*~**

Hopping out of the plane, I readjusted the hem of my vest. I waited for Jay to come out of the pilot’s seat, the last of today’s excitement still pumping through my veins. As he appeared next to me, I must have been showing my excitement.

“Was that fun, old sport?” He asked, chuckling some.

“Yes! Yes it was.” After that, we began our walk down the pier in silence. In that silence, I replayed the exploit we were just on. As fun as it was, a few things that were said began to stick out to me. Suddenly, Gatsby broke the silence, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“You know, lately I’ve had someone on my mind.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s been troubling me, but at the same time, I feel like it might be doing me some good, too.”

“I find myself in the same boat.” After a moment, I continued, trying to say something that would cheer the both of us up. “Well, maybe they’re supposed to be there. I remember my mother telling me when I was younger, ‘The mind can recognize what the heart is trying to deny.’” He visibly mulled over the words for a few seconds.

“Thank you, old sport.” A comfortable silence fell in between us again until we both suddenly found ourselves at the end of the hedge between Gatsby and I’s side yards.

“Well,” I began, looking down at my wristwatch, “I can’t believe it’s gotten so late in the day.”

“What time is it, exactly?”

“4:07 pm.”

“Oh. Well, it’s about time for afternoon tea at my house. It would be my honor to have you as my guest.”

“Yes, of course.” And just like that, I signed away the rest of my afternoon to spend with my… friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter of revelation.

Weeks ago, after I went on the hydroplane with Jay, we’ve been spending practically every other day with each other since. Between swimming in his pool, attending his parties, and making trips into the city with him, I could’ve sworn he flirted with me on more than one occasion. As of recently, after a lot of self-evaluation, I could’ve sworn I flirted back.

And weeks ago, I also sent my first letter to my cousin, Daisy. Since then, we’ve been calling each other and catching up. During our last telephone call, she had invited herself and her husband over to my house for dinner. It has been probably one of the hotter days of July so far, probably just about as hot as the Fourth, but no matter what, today was the day and I knew what not to talk about as I remembered what Jordan discussed with me the first time I spoke with her. A sudden yet expected knock at my door caught my attention, forcing me to close my book and answer it.

“Nicky! Oh, it’s been ages!” Daisy squealed as she threw her arms into the air. She then pulled me into a quick, tight hug.

“Ugh, hi Daisy.” I said to her, trying to catch my breath again. “How are you?”

“Oh, just swell, thanks!” She answered, pushing past me so that she may better examine my quaint home.

“And Tom.” I shook his hand, “How are you?”

“Hello, Nick. I’m just as good. Nice place you have here. A little run down looking though, I’ll admit, but you’ve somehow made it look good.”

“Oh, well... thank you.” I replied, not knowing exactly how to take his words. “Well, I’ve already gotten dinner prepared. Unless you two would like some drinks first?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll take a martini, if you’ve got it.” Daisy answered fast.

“I’ll have one as well.” Tom said, having a seat next to his wife on the living room couch and lighting himself a cigar.

“Alright then, I’ll be back in a flash.” As I made the drinks, I found myself trying not to get lost in the beauty of the sunset seen from my kitchen window. As I tried to focus myself on my actions, I could’ve sworn I noticed movement in Gatsby’s side yard, but I tried to pay it no mind. “And here are your drinks.”

“Thank you, Nick. You know, I was just telling Tom how much I love the color of your curtains.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” Tom asked me, obviously trying his best to move along the conversation and not spend any time in silence. I was certainly getting the feeling that Daisy had dragged him along to this dinner.

“Well, when I’m not at work, I try to spend some of my free time reading. I have made good friends with one of my neighbors though, so I don’t read as much as I used too.”

“Oh? Who’s your neighbor?” Daisy asked. “Maybe we know them.”

“A man by the name of Gatsby. He lives right over there,” I explained, leading the pair over to the nearby window and pointing to the tower where I first saw him. “His house isn’t exactly hard to miss.”

“G-Gatsby?” Daisy hesitated.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“I’ve... I’ve heard the name. It’s such ah— a big hou—” She was interrupted by three knocks at the door. I looked at them both curiously before excusing myself.

“Hi, Nick.”

“Gatsby— h-hi, what are you—”

“May I come in?”

“Well, I—” I motioned to Tom and Daisy with my dampening palms.

“Oh, you have company. I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought—”

“Jay?” Daisy questioned, getting up off of the couch. Looking towards the voice, a look of surprise fell over Gatsby’s face.

“Daisy?”

“Jay Gatsby, it’s been too long.” She walked over to him, arms spread out for an embrace. After kissing him once on each cheek, she stared into his eyes for a few moments, seemingly rekindling something from a past unknown to both Tom and I. “Um,” she interrupted the moment almost awkwardly, “this is Tom, my- my husband.” What Daisy said seemed to have little to no obvious effect on Jay, as he only briefly looked over to the stranger.

“Hello, Mr. Gatsby,” Tom started, walking over to him to shake his hand. “How do you know my wife?”

“I, um—“ Gatsby hesitated, his awareness of the situation suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“Oh, Tom, what does that matter?” Daisy interrupted.

“Well, I just want to know! Is that so wrong?” I could tell that Tom’s temper was starting to flair some, and I began to pray that things wouldn’t end poorly. In my gut though, I knew from looking at the scene playing out in front of me that my prayers may not be answered.

“No, no it’s not...” Daisy’s cheery mood suddenly changed as her words trailed off and she became quiet and a bit distant.

“Daisy,” Gatsby said, placing his hands on her shoulders and leading her towards the kitchen. When they got there, they began to stare into each other’s eyes again. “It’s been so long, yet time hasn’t touched your beauty.”

“So Tom, are you still playing polo?”

“Uh, on occasion.” I’m not surprised he kept his answer as short as possible as he kept an eye on his wife. My attempt to distract Tom from their interaction already wasn’t working on him, and it wasn’t doing so well on me either. When we overheard another flirt leave Gatsby’s lips and giggle come from Daisy, I tried again.

“You know, some of the rules still confuse me. How does one score points in that game?”

“Hold on, I’ll tell you in a second. Hey Gatsby—”

“No, Tom—” I tried reeling him back before he raised his voice anymore, but it was too late.

“—just how do you know my wife?”

“Listen, I—” Gatsby tried to reply. I suddenly found myself interrupting the fight before it really even began.

“Gatsby— don’t you think you should get going?”

“I—”

“Why did you even come here in the first place?” I don’t know why I was beginning to get mad, but I couldn’t help it. “You know, there’s no reason for you to be here.”

“But, old sport, I was just—”

“No! I don’t want to hear it, Jay. Listen, I cannot stand here and watch you try and flirt with my cousin— in front of her husband, no less!”

“Old sport, why are you—?”

“Why am I yelling at you? Especially when Tom has every right to be in my place? Because Gatsby, I don’t want you flirting with anyone else— not when you’ve been flirting with me all summer so far, and especially not since I’ve fallen in love with you!” And in that moment, time froze, leaving me and everyone else in the room to wonder what just happened.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's well that ends well!

The silence is killing me. Everyone in the room can only stand still and stare at me, attempting to take in what just happened. I clear my throat, wanting to say something, but nothing comes to fruition.

“Honey, I think we should go.” I couldn’t tell if it was Tom or Daisy who made that statement, my state of shock racking my brain. Then I heard somebody muttering things— a pervert this, a damn that— as movement occurred in front of me. I came back to reality when the front door slammed, and was left with an empty room in front of me. I’ve read enough books to know that this empty room held more meaning now, but what it was I couldn’t tell. I could only wait for it to be revealed to me.

**~*~**

Soon after the incident, I received a poison pen letter from my neighbor that had been taped to my front door. Gatsby explained in it that he will no longer speak to me “in any way, shape, or form— for ruining my chances with Daisy.” Chances that I wasn’t even aware of. He also claimed that I have ruined his life, that “if word gets out about who I am, my job, my parties... I’d never be able to step out of my home again, all because of you.” I read the letter over and over as I sank further into my own depression. I finally threw it out after a week of not going into work and sulking around my house. I received no contact from anyone, aside from calling into work once on Monday to alert my boss of my absence.

**~*~**

I spent the next month or so with no contact. Nothing from Daisy or Tom, and especially nothing from Jay. My phone has rung a few times, but I never bothered to pick it up. The only people I spoke to were co-workers and clients wanting stocks. Over time I became better at keeping those conversations as short as possible, perhaps as a way to punish myself, I couldn’t really tell. One Sunday evening, after a particularly brutal weekend spent brooding as Gatsby’s mansion came alive at night with the usual beautiful lights and beautiful people running to and from the party, I received a knock on my own front door.

“Nick!— Oh,” Jordan greeted me, going from elated to surprised quite quickly.

“Hello, Jordan.” I replied, trying to appear happier than I was by lifting up the corners of my mouth. That didn’t convince her much though, and I’m sure my dismal appearance wasn’t helping.

“Gosh, Nick, you look like a mess!” She said placing her hands on my shoulders as she made her way in. I dropped my façade immediately.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Is it that _obvious_?” She repeated with emphasis. “Nick, you’ve got dark circles under your eyes, your hair’s not combed, you’re still in your pyjamas— you’re really beaten up about this whole thing, aren’t you?” It took me a moment to answer as we both sat down on the couch, but I decided to answer honestly.

“Yes, I am. It was my own stupid mistake too.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Nickie.”

“Too late, I already have.”

“Well...” She teased, “oh no, I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” She looked at me, her mouth pursed.

“I was going to tell you something, but I promised. _But_ , I do have an idea. You’re going to the next party.”

“Oh no, I—”

“I’ll go with you, I promise. You can be my date.”

“But Jordan, you’re a homosexual.” I said, confused.

“Thank you for pointing that out for me.” Her voice laden with sarcasm. “Nick, just come with me, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. Plus, you’ll get a chance to get all dolled up again.” I reluctantly agreed.

**~*~**

Arm-in-arm with my date, we walked down Gatsby’s driveway.

“Jordan, I’m not so sure about this. I think I should go back home—” I told her nervously.

“Oh Nick, stop it. It’s going to be fine, I promise.” As we walked through the doorway, I was more anxious than ever. “Come on Nick, let’s get a wiggle on and get ourselves some of that giggle water!” She said loudly into my ear, trying to compensate for the voices of those around us. She then dragged me through the crowd to the nearest waiter, both of us grabbing a glass. I immediately drank half of it. By the time I finished my first glass, we had made our way outside to the garden, sitting down at an empty table. As I placed my empty glass down in front of me, a passing waiter refilled it.

“So, how’s Daisy?” I asked, attempting to distract myself. Jordan sighed, looking saddened.

“She, Tom, and their kid are vacationing in Paris for the rest of the summer, I think. I don’t know when they’re going to come back.” All of the bad feelings simmering in the pit of my stomach intensified.

“Oh God, Jordan, I am so, _so_ sorry.”

“No, no! Don’t be sorry.” She said, letting out a fake laugh. “I’ll be okay.” Out of the blue, Marvin appeared, whispering something in Jordan’s ear. As soon as he came, he left, but not without giving me a judging glance with an arched eyebrow. “Nick! Come with me— I’ve just _got_ to show you something!” She exclaimed, grabbing my hand over the table. I grabbed my drink with my free hand as we took off.

A walk up an elegant flight of stairs later, and a trip down a hallway I may have been down once or twice before, we arrived in front of a door. I couldn’t tell if the faint piano music I was hearing was coming from the main party scene or from behind the door. As Jordan knocked, the piano music stopped and I took one last drink from my glass, nearly finishing it off.

“Come in!” Someone shouted from inside. Oh no. I knew that voice all too well.

“No wait— Jordan, no—” She grabbed my glass as I struggled to get away but as she opened the door, she pushed me in with her free hand.

“Good luck!” She teased before promptly closing the door. There I was, staring at a closed door, my palms dampening as I nearly began hyperventilating. I couldn’t turn around to face him.

“Nick.” I heard from behind. “I’m sorry.” ‘Wait... what?’ I asked myself.

“Wait, what?” I repeated out loud a little quicker, now turning to look at Gatsby, who was sitting behind a white baby grand piano with a large arched window behind him, the stars glittering in the background.

“Nick, I’m sorry.” I looked at him with wide eyes as he stood up and walked to the middle of the warmly lit room. That’s the first time in my memory that he has used my name— my _actual_ name. “I’ve been acting childishly, and I know this, but... you do have to understand, I was scared about, about this...” he gestured to the surrounding room, “my... my home, my livelihood— my life itself. If people knew about how I am...” he trailed off solemnly.

“You could die. I know this, Jay; you act like I don’t live in these times as well. I am fully aware that people aren’t so accepting of those like you and Jordan, and I guess... me too. In the meantime, please do accept my deepest and sincerest apologies for any damage I may have done.”

“I do accept your apologies, as long as you accept mine.” I let out a giddy laugh, unable to help myself.

“Yes, I do.” As large smiles plastered our faces, a silence fell between us. Luckily, Gatsby was ready enough to break it after a few seconds.

“So... you love me, huh?” He asked in an attempt to lay on some charm. I felt my face begin to burn almost immediately and covered it with both hands in embarrassment. Gatsby chuckled in amusement. “Well, do you?” His voice was low and sultry. Suddenly, I felt his arms slink around my waist and looked up at him. Surprised by the intimate embrace, I backed up a step or two. He chuckled again, apologizing. “I’m sorry, was that too much, or...?” I let out a small laugh myself and rubbed the back of my neck some.

“No, I’m sorry, I just— wasn’t expecting it.” After a brief moment, I remembered his question. “But, uh, yes. I do... love you.”

“That’s good, because I love you too.” The blush I had felt fading away came back full force. “Oh, Nick—” Gatsby said, giggling at my embarrassment. This time, his arms wrapped me in a hug and I hid my face into the side of his handkerchief pocket, placing my hands lightly on his chest. He continued to laugh a little, and had managed to spread his laughter onto to me. As I slid my arms to a more comfortable position around his waist, I found myself looking up at him, staring him in the eyes. And there it was, the extravagant smile I had seen only once before, filling me with a joyous belief that I could not place, yet understood perfectly. I could only look back at him in amazement— or was I dumbfounded?— as the space between us grew smaller and our lips finally met. If his smile was so incredible, his kiss was a godsend.


End file.
